


chill must be a zero-sum game

by sapphee



Series: a soft thing [2]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Getting Together, Hair stroking, Intimacy, M/M, brief mention of racism, i guess??????? i assume that is what happens, physical affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-10-22
Packaged: 2018-08-23 22:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8345434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphee/pseuds/sapphee
Summary: The habit, the urge, the desire to stroke Dex's hair starts out as a total accident.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had really hoped to start the polyamor-D thing soon???? but then I got an idea for a Halloween fic???/ and wanted to finish this (in which I project all over the place) before I moved on to another thing??? plus I'm not done with figuring out the plot for the polyamor-D???? so yeah. I possibly have 1-2 more fics to work on before starting the polyamor-D one in earnest. 
> 
> tl;dr I'm more nervous to do another multi-chapter thing than I had previously thought.
> 
> P.S. This is in Nursey's POV, and I'm not Black, so please let me know if I've mis-stepped in any way. Thank you!

Nursey has never understood the appeal of someone touching his hair. Ever. He figures being Black almost certainly has something to do with it, how non-Black people find his hair a novelty and reach out to touch it. Sensory tourism.

Sometimes he wonders whether he'd think differently, if he hadn't grown up like he did, the way his follicles remain untamed by hair gel or hairspray for the most part, the way he refuses to cut his hair as short as Ransom usually does, the way his hair springs outward and stays there and defies gravity to the point where non-Black people reach out to touch and pull and explore, as if he is (supposedly) an unexplored land.

He envies Dex, sometimes. The way Dex goes damn near boneless under his fingers, when Nursey idly massages his scalp. The way Dex's head sometimes pushes into his hand, wordlessly urging for a firmer touch. The way Dex will let out a sigh that he doesn't even seem to notice, followed by a near-automatic shift closer to Nursey's body.

Given how Nursey detests the thought of people touching his hair, he never thought he'd like touching other people's hair. _Dex's_ hair.

The habit, the urge, the _desire_ to stroke Dex's hair starts out as a total accident. Nursey is accustomed to being the tallest, taking full advantage of his height to use the other person's head as his armrest, while he takes the selfie with his other hand. When he comes to Samwell, when he joins the team, where he's no longer the only one over six feet, where he meets the angry white ginger who's exactly the same height, he puts his hand on Dex's head as if to use him as an armrest, even though he's not tall enough to actually do it. But it pisses Dex off, and that's all that matters.

Until it isn't.

Until Nursey's hand remains on his head a hair too long, and Nursey starts taking note of how soft it is, how it's meticulously maintained at the same length, month after month. Until Dex stops pushing him away so quickly after a Chowder-enforced selfie and actually takes the initiative to critique the selfie and demands that they take it again, never once shaking Nursey's hand off. Until Dex's laptop is on Nursey's lap and Dex's breath hitches when Nursey gives him a gentle head scratch and Dex says—

"You."

Nursey cannot breathe. He can only look at the way Dex looks back at him. Unguarded and pliant, Nursey has never seen Dex so chill in his life. How ironic, when this is the least chill Nursey has ever felt.

Chill must be a zero-sum game, he thinks hysterically. The voice in his head expressing the thought sounds like Holster.

Or perhaps Nursey has reached the ultimate level of chill; his hand in Dex's hair is frozen. He is completely frozen. Because what else could Dex mean by that?

Dex snaps his laptop shut and places it on the table. His open gaze has shuttered, closed and impenetrable. Dex's hands freeze when they brush against Nursey's thigh, as Dex pushes himself up off the couch.

"Sorry." It comes out of Dex's mouth as a soft thing. As if it were a stray leaf blown away by the Dex's slightest exhalation, a breath that nevertheless sends the sound slamming straight into Nursey's chest, one that startles him into grabbing Dex's wrist with one hand. The other, previously in Dex's hair, has slid to the back of Dex's neck. Nursey moves that hand to Dex's shoulder, squeezes gently, and drags Dex back down. Turns toward Dex to pull Dex's weight onto his own, cups Dex's face, leans in.

"Good," Nursey says, barely above a whisper. Their faces are so close together that as Nursey's lips protrude to produce the word, they touch Dex's. "Me, too."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Personal: sapphee  
> Omgcp sideblog: omgcphee


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